12:12
by Rianne Pond
Summary: She was always on my mind, stupid, infuriating, mudblood of a Gryff. Insufferable really, so why couldn't I stop thinking about her smile? Why did the smell of her hair linger in the air when I walked past? Why did, I have this weakness of love?


**12:12**

There is only one thing strange about the morning. At this single moment in time there is only one thing out of place. The rest of the world is in perfect serenity, except for that one eerie fact. I wake to the rainfall on my window, thinking about her. Always thinking about her. It seems as though all of my life goes to a standstill when she's on my mind, which lately is all of the time. When I think of her the new tattoo on my arm does not hurt. When I think of her my heart doesn't ache about all of the life I'm missing out on. When I think of her everything feels good; I don't hurt.

I can almost hear her laughing at how ridiculous I'm being. I can hear that voice. I can imagine her porcelain face glowing with hot laughter at the thought of me. She'd long gone and left me in the dust. Though despite every negative fact that kept me from her it only made me stronger. Somehow the forbidden fruit concept applied here or the grass is greener on the other side, if you will. But none of that mattered, because there was a certain alignment of peace in the world.

I look at the clock at my bedside. It was twelve, twelve in the morning. I can't lie… not about this at least. The time shocked me. It gave me a kind of euphoria feeling. Draco Malfoy shouldn't feel euphoric. To feel that sappy, memory filled happiness was to be weak. Draco was not weak. It was on this day and at this time that it happened. December twelfth, twelve after midnight was the date and time. At this realization I thought I should have climbed back into that warm bed to fall asleep to the pitter-patter on my windows, but I didn't. For some strange, insomniac and misconstrued judgment reason I stood and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. I never figured out why, but shoes must have slipped my mind, because I went without them.

The halls were dark and I was without a wand, because along with my shoes I somehow forgotten it. _Come on Draco, snap out of it. She's just a school crush. _I icily continued to try convincing myself of this, but it did no good. She was always on my mind, stupid, infuriating, mudblood of a Gryff. Insufferable really, so why couldn't I stop thinking about her smile? Why did the smell of her hair linger in the air when I walked past? Why did, I, Draco Malfoy, have this weakness of compassion and _love_? The thought of possessing such qualities disgusts me.

While having this inward argument with myself I am only slightly aware of this feeling that I can't shake. It is a feeling that Draco the death eater has been all to familiar with, but this is slightly different. I am without the cape, without the mask, right now I am just Draco the school-boy git. Right now nothing was like it is out there in the darkness. In the shadows with the whispering of snakes and The Dark Lord. It isn't the same, there is not a chill or a strange stomach tightening like when the cold metal mask touches my skin. I am Draco now, just Draco. So why is _just Draco _being followed?

I pretend that the thought does not concern me. Though I am confused and without a wand I have no fears… not anymore. I tuck my hand in my back pocket and use the other to comb the disarray of hair. Without the dumb company that I strive to surround myself with I can feel my inner peace and equableness with the school. It is too bad this is my last year. Sure, it is only my sixth year, but I have more important things to attend to and leaving for every Hogsmeade visit will not suffice. Now I miss those days that I would brag about wealth or Durmstrang or even about the fact that I was dating that Pansy of a Parkinson. I shudder at the fact that I'd allowed her to develop feelings for me. She thought that it was okay to coax me to lie with my head in her lap and even tried to hold my hand after I'd specifically told her that was for prats.

How wrong she was to assume that I actually had any, shall I say, romantic interest in her. From that day that she saw fit to follow me to the hospital wing when that bloody beast attacked me she'd been heedless. Little did she know that of those in the class it wasn't her that I wanted worried about me. At this time I no longer have to worry about the bone mending. It was long ago that I exploited the injury and now I cared little for the juvenile behavior. I guess my tastes changed when I realized who I had to be impressing.

Back to her, it always came back to her. She was honestly going to be the death of me. As if it mattered, I already signed over my life to The Dark Lord. She wouldn't have to worry about the arse I'd been to her all of these years and I'd end up thinking about her even more often than I already do. I'm not even sure that its possible to think of her more than I do currently.

Right about now I wish that it had been her that walked into the girl's lavatory at The Three Broomsticks on the eighth. She wouldn't have let Madam Rosmerta jinx her or let me pass on the opal necklace. If chance had been on my side than I wouldn't be in the mess that I'm currently wading through. It seemed lately that chance did not enjoy being on my side.

I spare a glance over my shoulder and see nothing. I draw the conclusion that I imagined the feeling of being watched. I make my way all the way to the seventh floor with that weird feeling of having someone watching me. It seems as if there is a bigger someone watching me. I guess Big Brother is keeping an eye on me. I shake off the feeling and remind myself there is no such someone. I mean how could someone see where I go without following me, the idea is on the verge of insanity. My lip twitches at my realization. I unconsciously begin to trace the brick on the wall of the room of requirement. Because of the fact that I am thinking of nothing the room does not open for me, but that's okay. I'm not in the mood to work on the cabinet at the moment.

When my bare feet are becoming loud I become aware that they're not he only noise in this hallway. I hear breathing not to far away. I squint in the darkness and make out a soft blue light. The pale face that had the light reflecting on it was all too familiar. It's like the world is out to get me. I seriously consider running, but its too late, she's looked up. Her chocolate brown eyes remind me why I even got up so early.

Euphoria spreads through my veins infecting every part of my body. It reminds me of everything we had… everything we lost. December twelfth was the day. I found her on the twelfth floor of the astronomy tower at twelve, twelve. I told her twelve words that changed my life. _Hermione I can't live without you, I love you much too much. _I gave her a dozen magicked red roses and she gave me twelve days of ecstasy.

Eventually our differences became the end of us, but I can no longer help myself every time I see her. The memories always flood back with crystal clarity and I wonder if I'd tried harder could things have worked out. She was now looking at me strange as I tightened my mouth and straightened my slack jaw.

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she asked, slightly acidic.

"I- err," I said at a loss for words. I was now having another chance to try. I want to so bad that I can feel pain in my mouth because of my clenched teeth. I ball my hand into a fist. Hermione is still waiting for an answer as she sits on the ground reading by wand light. I think over what I'm planning on saying to perfect it. I do what I think is best for both of us. I hope that I'm not being stupid in saying this.

"What are _you_ doing Hermione?" I stall, wincing when I accidentally call her by her first name.

"Reading," Hermione sighs, lifting her book. I try my hardest not to smile.

"At midnight? Why are you out, Granger?" I ask with so much edge in my voice that I swear I've become someone else. I can see her eyes draw back in a defensive way.

"What are you doing out? Are you mourning the loss of that death eater, git of a father?" she asks, matching my unfriendliness. I cringe at the comment about death eater gits and reach for my left forearm.

"Well, I hope this doesn't happen again," I say coldly. "Honestly its bad enough I have to see you in class, but what with your ugly mug dotting about the halls past curfew I won't have safe place to escape."

She gives me a razor sharp glare.

"I hope you learn the error in your ways, you brat," she hisses, grimacing.

The Gryffindor girl stands and picks up her wand and book. She looks at me with curious, disgust and fervor. I try to hold my own with a sneer. I ready my slyest drawl to say something rude, but she beats me to it. After tossing her hair over her shoulder she turns back.

Her pale lips formed words that usually would have made me laugh, but the way Hermione spat it at me made me recoil in pain. "You're not wearing any shoes. You know normal people wear those. Then again it is you, isn't it?"


End file.
